Judge — October 4, 1884 — page 7: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE JUDGE. IN POWER AND OUT. Two pages from the life of * Reformer” Schurz. | fil HK Me we T1.— 1884. Page Posing as the Laborer’s friend. “My Uncle John's Umbrella changed, my uncle became infirm. my pious duty to watch the tr sooth this was troublesome enou than once I had to ch humbly imploring the me, and out of spite “Uncle's Umbrella.” when I, like all my worshipped rington. She was too lovely for description and [ used to tremble with joy as she passed in the park, followed by her admirers, who went by the soubriquet of the ‘Florinda Brigade.” The trophies she received might vie with Cleopatra, She would tip toe on embroidered with forget-me-nots fre ling in gants de Suede gloves uquet of geraniums and gar- 4 fun ordered from India at her fair pug with the wickede i by another admirer, and on her wrist a pet love bird. Suddenly the blue sky became clouded, a seemed threatening, hitherto I had been ont in the cold, as I had given her nothing except a heart’s true beat, but now Ih n opportunity of being first in her affections, s thought I dashed past the terr 1 umbrella y_ existe’ uncle, whose who "hom my he greute I was brought up by an affections scemed absorbed in its possession. It was always forgotten, though, when a shower of rain fell, or left behind at the last moment in acar or railway, and there was my uncle pufling and blowing, trying to make everybody understand what he had lost, wiping the perspiration off his foreh with his re a nd, when ¢ last it was handed toh soul with a ‘here yot ment was 80 at, he " ery from sheer t regaining his treasure. Oh, that umbre When I was about three yea how I was pointed at, abused, and Whipped almost into a jelly for hz in it, bu sainst a nail, or placed my favorite cat in it as: my Uncle John was starting with a gorgeous striped waistcoat, newest of plaid t rs, and a flower in his button-hole to meet his favorite widow, for he was a bachelor, this was the sight which met his eyes. Of course, he bought a new umbrella on the spot, which 3 used to be pointed at me and shaken in my and squares, bolted into our own hall door face, till I would as soon have touched it as | by of a latch key, seized the umbrella an infernal machine, and the very commence- |W ole pwall. It ment of its name, um——, would send me flying upstairs to my gurret, three steps at a time. As I grew older the programme ‘would return it to they christened me came lin love, and lorence Me would mand | eared on it, idiotically at me. | Sarah Bernhardt’s latest’ triump | over her he: he had written, for it was so blotted, just a eyes given | John was ill in bed; what a would present it to ‘the fair Her gorgeous dress—imitation of , yellow and I ct shop My Unele chance! [ Florence. lawn wit’ pearls—would be safe would replace the umbrella in the where it had been bought. No sooner had threatened fulfilled its pron tured the despair of the the givers of the pu did it matter, they could not protect tl lovely yellow me, or preserve the Henri Deny * with its gold tippe hers. On, ¢ nd just a shower was becoming bad on insight of Florinds hat as bright ang or, oh! her exqu whispered and followir I had saved squeezed my ha thought ge the umbi sun was shining r past, 1 darlin up my ady won the day, and when the deliciously on our faces we told our mutual story. Hand in hand (for the rest of the Florinda Brigade had floundered away), we 1 good-b d both made for home. At the hall door stood Biddy, our Trish maid, sobbing, drying muslin. apror i ci thar, ye unlic ky divil *T gasped. sure the maister riz, and, say she, ‘T enhouse I'll go, where's my umbrella We searched high and low, Peter, the boy, and I, and I told him the witches or fairie him. Upon that he to a passion, and swore it and you'd repent it, out a sheet of paper, will, and. there he wa . thieves, writing one out. Then he took sick and became worse and worse, and we sent for the doctor, who’s with him, and says he can’t live an hour, and he’s uncon: last fit: could not hold the pe: of us, and we were no! le was Ye + What the mat- ter and cried himself into 1s you had done it, ious since the , or know one to read a word cribble, If ever there was a contrite spirit I repre- sented it. Deeply humiliated (lately in the arms of Dlissful anticipation) | walked up the airs and looked at my unfortunate unele. ‘oor fellow, his breath was labored, his voice husky, and the end came quickly. ‘The verdict was, ‘* Died from brain excitement, supposed to have been superinduced by the loss of an umbrella.” Naturally, | inherited all his wealth, including the invaluable pos- session generally used by Florinda, who little imagines how nearly [ lost my all. through having taken Uncle John’s umbrella. G. M. Moctnray, A riGHtiNG cock lost one of his tail-feath- ers—a really pretty ornamental feather. Lost it on the eve of battle’ Nevertheless, his courage and spurs being in good con- dition, he went in and licked the other chicken just as usual. Avuiken of pretty mama, (interrupted in his attidude of adoration by entrance of her eldest daughter Angelina) turns to her and. rem: ut garden did yo gather those be: Enfant terrible * Not where mama out of the red pot, labelled roug Pretty young mama rises and wipes an nary fly off a picture. un rises at once, and says good-bye. comicbooks.com